


An Icy Detachment

by Dr_Horrible117



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 14:47:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Horrible117/pseuds/Dr_Horrible117
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon struggles with the power of the ice crown during the war, as a young woman works on a device to the end the war once and for all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Icy Detachment

**Author's Note:**

> Written by Tyler Gray
> 
> I do not own Adventure Time or any of its characters.
> 
> This is my first time submitting fan fiction. I had been meaning to write a history of Adventure Time, so when my professor in Lit of Sci-Fi and Fantasy gave us the option of writing a creative story for our final (including fan fiction), I used it as an opportunity to write this. Because it had to be a short story that was self-contained, I was restricted somewhat in terms of length. Also, at first, I tried to stick to canon as much as possible, because I wanted it to actually work within the show's universe, but about halfway through, I realized I had already diverged from the canon. I'll explain at the end, so as not to give anything away, but it's still a good story and I hope you enjoy it!

The Adventure Time Chronicles: An Icy Detachment 

Simon hurried down the sidewalk, his backpack beginning to grow uncomfortable on his shoulder. He was trying to shift the weight when he paused. Down the street, he saw the smoldering wreckage of what used to be a home. He had seen dozens of similarly destroyed homes over the past few years, but it still always brought him a terrible sense of sorrow. "At least I still have some anchor in my humanity," he thought to himself, savoring the feeling. The few others actually out on the street didn't even glance at it, just another victim of the war. They kept their eyes focused on the ground, hurrying to complete whatever business they had and return to the false security of their homes. 

A man in a faded business suit shivered as he walked past, crossing his arms to stay warm. "For Christ's sake, it shouldn't be this cold out yet. It's barely even August. As if we don't have enough bloody problems already." Simon stiffened, glancing around at the few passersby, and checked to make sure his makeup hadn't rubbed off anywhere. Shifting his backpack again, he quickly continued on down the street. A few minutes later, he stood in front of a pale green door, the paint beginning to peel in a couple places. Taking out his key, he unlocked it and went inside, closing the door behind him. Wearily, he threw his backpack down onto the table in the center of the room, the contents spilling out across the pockmarked wood. 

Simon went back to the door, opened it, and glanced down the hallway before shutting and locking it from inside. As he turned around, a ray of sunlight slipping in through the blinds reflected into his eye off of a shiny, golden object on the table. He walked over and sat down, staring at it with a look of apprehension. It was a beautifully crafted golden crown, with three flawless red gems interspaced evenly across the front, with the largest gem in the center. After sitting in silence for a few moments, Simon opened his mouth. "You need to stop doing this. I can't keep moving around every time people start questioning why it's snowing in the middle of summer." 

_Then let the snow fall. Let the people ask their questions. What they think will soon be of little consequence._

"What do you mean it will 'soon be of little consequence'?" The crown remained silent, looking for all the world like a simple, inanimate object. His anger building, Simon clenched his fists and said, "And it's not just about what they think! These are innocent people we're talking about. The freezing cold will make them miserable, possibly even hurt them." 

_I am_ your _protector._

Simon paused, thinking back on all the trouble this thing had caused him. Bitter tears began to fill his eyes as he pushed himself back from the table and stood up. Unable to control his anger any longer, he shouted at the crown, " _Protector_!? You ruined my life!" Picking it up, he tried to violently throw it against the wall, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get it to leave his hand. Screaming in frustration, he instead slammed it back down on the table. Breathing heavily, Simon walked off a small ways to try to compose himself. 

Trying to clench his fists again, he winced. Looking down, he saw that he had slammed the crown down with such force that it had cut his hand. A small trickle of blood flowed from the cut. "Well, at least there's one thing that still makes me human," he thought to himself. Still fuming, he walked into the kitchen and pulled a small towel from the drawer. As he wiped the blood from his hand, he also wiped off some of the makeup, revealing a bit of his unnaturally blue skin. Staring at it, he thought back to when it was still normal, when he still looked human. A lone teardrop fell from his eye onto his hand, further marring his makeup. "If only I could go back and stop all this from happening... Then, maybe, Betty would still be here." 

He had been studying to be an antiquarian of ancient artifacts when he met a dock worker in Northern Scandinavia who had found an exquisite and peculiar crown. Instantly fascinated with it, Simon purchased it from the worker for a fair price and brought it home to show his fiancée, Betty. Jokingly, he placed it on his head. That's when it started. His mind was suddenly filled with voices and horrifying visions. He fought with them, shouted at them until he realized it wasn't real, it was the crown. He quickly took it off and saw Betty looking at him with such contempt. What had he said? What had he done? All he knew was he never saw Betty again. 

Since then, the effects had gotten worse. His skin started to turn blue, his hair turned white and grew rapidly, and his body temperature dropped to an unnatural 30° C. It wasn't just him either; whenever he stayed in one place too long, the area around him would grow colder, sometimes even causing snow to fall in the summer. The most important change, however, was the crown's increasing influence. After a while, Simon began to hear the voices even when he wasn't wearing the crown. The voices grew louder and more forceful. There were times that he found himself being drawn to it by a strong urge to put it on. It promised him the powers of ice and snow, said that it would protect him. Protect him from what though? And at what cost? He tried to resist the crown, but he could feel his will draining. At times, he even began to be unsure of what was real and what wasn't. If he could have, he would have destroyed that cursed object long ago. 

Putting the towel down on the counter, he sighed. He didn't know what to do anymore. All he did know was that he couldn't get rid of it. Eventually, he would go back into his study, pick up the crown, and take it with him again, wherever he went. Letting out a deep breath, he turned around and walked back into the room. 

* * *

_  
_

_Pop!_ Bonnie pulled the gum back into her mouth and continued chewing as she worked out the complex mathematical equations in front of her. Frowning slightly, she erased a bit of writing and replaced it with her own, scribbling away furiously. Completely absorbed by her work, she didn't notice someone come in the door behind her. "Ahem." _Pop!_ She didn't even look up from her desk. "Bonabelle." Putting down her pencil, Bonnie swiveled around to see a middle-aged man in a white lab coat, matching Bonnie's own, standing impatiently behind her. 

"How is the project coming along? Are you almost finished?" he asked. _Pop!_ With that same slight frown, still chewing her gum, she replied, "Dr. Farrenkopf, this is revolutionary, groundbreaking technology, not a science fair volcano. You can't expect such a device to be whipped up in just a couple days." 

"Need I remind you, Ms. Sophia, that we are in the middle of a war right now? People are dying out there. We need to finish this project to finish this war. The chancellor is growing impatient, and the German people are losing both lives and hope by the day." 

"Then I suggest you let me get back to work," she said, turning back around to her desk. "Get this done by tomorrow. If you can't, we'll find someone who can," Dr. Farrenkopf replied angrily. _Pop!_ He stomped out the door, shutting it forcefully behind him. Bonnie wasn't worried. They both knew she was the only person who could do this. That was the only reason why she, a young woman just out of college, could speak like that to the more experienced scientists. Brushing the conflict from her mind, she turned her focus back to the project. Swept up by her intense scientific curiosity into her own world, she picked up her pencil and began again to rapidly solve equations that would have left Einstein's head spinning. It was true that it was needed for the war, but Bonnie didn't even think about its practical use. Fifty years ago, the Russians managed to create a hydrogen bomb with three stages, instead of the normal two, and it was the largest man-made explosion in history. Bonnie was betting she could create four stages. 

* * *

_  
_

Finally putting down her pencil, Bonnie breathed a heavy sigh of relief as she sat back and admired her own handiwork. It had taken a little longer than she initially expected, but she had finally worked out exactly how to create a four-stage hydrogen bomb. She paged Dr. Farrenkopf, whose footsteps were soon heard walking quickly down the hall. 

"Is it finished?" he asked immediately upon entering the room, slightly out of breath. She simply nodded as she stood up, pointing to her schematics. Farrenkopf walked over and stared down at the designs on the desk, his eyes darting back and forth as he scanned her work. Bonnie couldn't help but feel a bit of smug satisfaction as she watched the man's eyes widen in awe. Her self-satisfaction, however, was interrupted as she saw a sudden flicker of something dark flit across Farrenkopf's expression. She couldn't quite place it, but something about that look in his eyes concerned her. 

"What's this here?" Farrenkopf's voice snapped Bonnie out of her thoughts. He was gesturing to a section of notes that she had drawn a large X over. "Oh, you can just ignore that. It was some notes on materials to use that would drastically increase the radiation damage, but they're far too dangerous and unpredictable," she told him. This response elicited a small chuckle from the man. "Ms. Sophia, war is too dangerous and unpredictable. Hell, even normal life is dangerous and unpredictable. I see no need for fear of something that already surrounds us." 

"You don't understand! Using those specifications could result in catastrophic levels of radiation. We have no way of knowing what it might do!" 

The smile disappeared from Farrenkopf's lips. "We are losing this war, Ms. Sophia. In war, if one hopes to win, he must take risks and be willing to do everything necessary to destroy the enemy. We have been ready for weeks to begin immediate construction of the bomb, and I will be damned before I show those American dogs any mercy. Now I am going to take these designs and use them in their entirety. I suggest you go home. We no longer need your services, nor your doomsday prophecies." He collected the papers under his arm and walked out, leaving Bonnie standing alone, her mouth still open in shock. 

Although he had been always been rude and abrasive, Farrenkopf had never actually been able to go against her demands before. Her shock quickly gave way to anger as she stalked out of the room. "How dare he? I'm the one that figured out how to make the damn thing! That idiot doesn't know what he's doing," she thought to herself, as she walked down the corridor. A wave of fear washed over her as she realized: Farrenkopf really didn't know what he was doing. And neither did she. 

As she was passing a door, Bonnie suddenly paused. It was Dr. Farrenkopf's office. Listening closely to hear if anyone was approaching, she quietly opened the door and went inside. There, on the desk, she saw what she was looking for: his laptop. Taking a seat, she brought up GMX mail and smiled. Just like she had hoped, the brilliant Dr. Farrenkopf had apparently selected the "keep me signed in" option. 

She quickly scanned through the e-mails and opened one that was sent to the chancellor. What she saw surprised her. It was a detailed discussion about where to drop the first bomb and how long it would take to make it. Bonnie knew that many scientists and government officials were bad about adhering to strict, secure methods of communication, but this was ridiculous. Her mouth fell open as she read through the message. They were going to drop the first bomb on Los Angeles, and they were doing it specifically to cause maximum civilian casualties and panic. Looking to see when they would do this, she saw that Farrenkopf had told the chancellor that he could have the bomb actually built and ready within just a week of receiving the designs. 

Having finished reading the message, Bonnie hastily closed everything and snuck back out of the office. She walked down the hallway and out of the building as she tried to think of what to do, but for the first time in her life, she could not solve the problem. This realization knocked everything out of here, leaving her feeling nothing but a cold dread seeping from her heart throughout her body. She couldn't stop this. There was nothing she could do. 

"Actually, there is one thing I can do..." she thought. She may not be able to stop the bomb, but she could be there when it went off. It was her creation. It was only fitting that she see it through to the end. 

Getting to L.A. wouldn't be too much trouble. There was a steady stream of refugees pouring out of Germany, through London, on to the United States. When she got home, she would book the first flight she could out of here. The only hope she still had, if you could call it that, was that she could make it in time. 

* * *

_  
_

"Now boarding: group C for Los Angeles." Simon looked at his ticket as he stood up, grabbed his backpack, and flung it over his shoulder. "Time to go," he thought. He walked over to the gate and smiled politely at the woman collecting the tickets. "Thank you, sir. Have a nice flight," she said as Simon handed her his ticket. He thanked her and continued on through the tunnel to board the plane. It had been years since he had flown in one, since before the war, since before the crown... Reaching his hand into his backpack, he reassured himself that the crown was there. He must have checked on it at least half a dozen times, just while waiting for his flight. 

He was making his way down the aisle when the sight of a young woman slumped against one of the plane's windows caught his eye. Her faintly disheveled hair, the bags under her eyes, the way her mouth hung open slightly as she slept... She looked just like Betty, when she would stay up late working until she fell asleep on her desk. Simon would always come get her, gently picking her up and carrying her to bed, before crawling under the covers beside her. 

"Hey, buddy, are you gonna sit down or what?" 

Snapping back to the present, Simon realized he was blocking the entire aisle, including the man behind him. He quickly apologized and moved on to his seat, keeping his pack with him on his lap rather than in the overhead compartment. He buckled himself in, still trying to shake the memories from his mind. They were too painful. He looked out the window to divert his attention and saw the bleak, overcast skies. "Did I cause that? ...No, c'mon Simon, not every storm cloud is your fault," he thought to himself. Still, it did make him eager to leave. 

He was relieved when the plane finally started to move, and he watched through the window as they sped up. He could feel the peculiar lurching in his stomach as the plane's wheels left the ground behind. It felt weird, leaving. He had moved around a number of times already to escape the crown's effects, but it had always been within the UK. This would be his first time living in America. But Los Angeles was a good choice. There were too many memories in Europe, and America had so far escaped most of the war's destruction. Plus, LA's warm climate would hopefully slow the crown's influence for at least a little while. 

Although, lately the crown's power actually seemed to be diminishing. Simon was seeing visions less and less, the voices that had once filled his head had died down to a barely audible whisper, and, while he did keep checking on it, he hadn't felt any urges to put the crown on in days. He was finally able to enjoy some amount of peace and calm. Still, he couldn't help but feel like it was the calm before the storm. 

He was looking out the window at the clouds below, trying to pick out shapes, when he suddenly saw one that looked exactly like Betty. The sudden shock caught him unprepared, and as the grief and longing boiled up inside him, he shouted, "Stop it! Just leave me alone!" Simon turned his head away from the window to see everyone nearby staring at him. If his skin was still normal, his face would have been a bright red. As it was, the makeup hid any possible change in complexion, leaving his face looking unchanged as he stammered out, "S- Sorry. Bad dream." The people around him seemed to accept his feeble excuse and turned away as Simon silently cursed himself. He didn't think he had shouted that out loud. "Idiot," he thought, "I guess I don't need the crown to go insane. I should just go to sleep, before I draw any more attention to myself." Shutting his eyes and relishing the temporary calm in his mind, Simon quickly fell into a peaceful sleep. 

* * *

_  
_

Bonnie yawned as she stepped off the plane into the terminal and tried to fix her disheveled hair. She had fallen asleep almost immediately upon sitting down on the plane in London and slept through the entire ten-hour flight. She must have been more tired than she thought. Even though it had been nearly a week since she finished the project, she still hadn't managed to catch up on her sleep. To get rid of the bad taste lingering in her mouth, she went to pull a piece of gum from her pocket. Not paying attention to where she was going, Bonnie accidentally walked into the man in front of her. 

"Verz- I mean, sorry," she said. Bonnie silently cursed herself for almost using German. Germans were still allowed in America, but there was a large social stigma against them. They were the enemy, after all. 

The man turned around, but he froze momentarily when he saw her and gave her a peculiar look. For a second, Bonnie was worried that she had already given herself away and ostracized herself when the man gave her a kindly smile, saying, "That's alright, mein liebe." She stared at him, stunned. 

The man looked to be about in his mid-forties, but his long hair was already white as snow, with a thick beard that went almost up to his nose, and there seemed to be something off about his skin. What really stood out to Bonnie, however, were his eyes, which were warm and gentle, with a hopeful spark behind them. He looked like the ideal grandfather figure. 

"You... You don't care that I'm from Germany?" she asked. He smiled again and replied, "Of course not. We are all people, aren't we? And in such troubled times, more than ever, we must reach out to one another, not throw up more barriers." 

She was startled. She had never been one for much socializing, and she had spent the past year deep in her work. Most of her interactions had been with Farrenkopf, who wasn't exactly the most cheerful company, and the other scientists in the project hadn't been very outgoing either. Hearing such kindness from a total stranger wasn't just unusual, it felt... alien. 

"Thank you... I, uh, I need to be going. It was nice to meet you...?" 

"Simon," he said, extending his hand. 

"Bonnie." She shook his hand, which, for some reason, felt abnormally cold. Thanking him again, she quickly walked off. She had only gone a few yards when she happened to glance down at her hand and immediately noticed that some pale makeup had rubbed off onto it. Puzzled, she turned around to try to locate the man again, but he had already disappeared. 

"Oh well," she thought. But for a moment, she actually missed the man she had just met. This weird new feeling in her chest troubled her. He was going to die. He was going to die, and it was all her fault. 

No... No. She couldn't think like that, not now. She tried to banish the thought from her mind and force herself to stop thinking about the man. It was too late to start considering the morality of her actions. "What's done is done. I cannot change it now, and worrying about it will only serve to stress me out further." Bonnie mentally picked herself up and continued on toward the exit. 

* * *

_  
_

After checking what little she brought with her into a hotel room, Bonnie had decided to spend her first day in LA walking around the city. Wandering along the streets, she came across several piles of rubble that had once been buildings and homes. America may not have been hit as hard as Europe, but they certainly hadn't been untouched by the war. The ruins didn't appear too recent, as the surrounding wildlife had already begun to encroach upon them. They were likely from the beginning of the war, before the United States had a chance to prepare itself. 

Bonnie weaved her way in between the people on the sidewalk to make her way to a bridge overlooking the LA River. She was guessing that there weren't as many people walking around as there would have been before the war, but compared to back home, it seemed like a bustling, thriving metropolis. The people were going about their day-to-day lives, talking to each other casually, almost like there wasn't a devastating war going on. And none of them had any idea what was coming. 

Leaning against the bridge's railing, she took out a piece of gum and stuck it in her mouth. _Pop!_ The simple, repetitive process of chewing gum had always helped her relax whenever she was stressed from too much work. Farrenkopf, however, had always found it annoying, but Bonnie didn't particularly care. 

She wondered at the people milling about, so carefree. It all looked so... normal. _Pop!_ "In just a matter of days, all these people will be dead and this whole city will be in ruins. And for what?" It was true that she had thought her bomb was the best possible solution, that it would bring a quick end to the war and all the senseless killing, but to be honest, she really hadn't thought about it very much. She had been captivated by the challenge, driven on by her own curiosity and that sense of accomplishment that accompanied every new invention. _Pop!_

"What about all these people, though? Why should they be the ones to die?" She looked around at all the people walking along the streets, but try as she might, all Bonnie could see were faces. They were all just bodies to her, not somebodies. _Pop!_ But if she hadn't come here out of empathy for these people, why then had she come? "Because," she thought, turning back to look into the murky water, "I have to see this thing to its end. I created this monstrosity. And I'm going to be here when it comes." 

_Pop!_ Bonnie suddenly heard screaming behind her. Whipping back around, she saw a few people screaming in terror, and it soon spread among everyone in the streets. It immediately became clear what was causing the panic. A squadron of German bombers was flying in fast. American anti-aircraft guns began to fire, but the planes had flown in too quickly and low. One of the planes started belching flames, but the others dropped their loads, silencing the American defenses. 

"How did they finish it so quickly? I thought I had more time! Scheiße!" That's when she saw it. The special bomber. It was at least twice as large as the others, which was probably why the others came in first to take out the AA fire. Bonnie had no doubt in her mind what that plane was carrying. She should have been scared, but, for some reason, she wasn't. A strange calmness came over her. They came sooner than she expected, but it was time. She leaned back against the railing, looked out at the city, and chewed her gum, as the last bomber flew over and dropped its load. 

_Pop!_

* * *

_  
_

Simon finally made it to the top of the hill and sat down to look out across Los Angeles. He had been tempted to stay in the city, especially since the crown's effects appeared to be waning, but it was still too dangerous. Even if it seemed like he was getting better, he just couldn't put the lives of those innocent people at risk. He could still be dangerous, and he was terrified that, if the crown suddenly exerted its influence again, he might hurt someone. Unwilling to let that happen, he had decided to camp just outside of the city. 

But this was okay. It was nice, sitting on the soft grass, looking out at the hustle and bustle of the big city. It was beautiful, in a way. His thoughts strayed to Bonnie, the young woman who had run into him back at the airport. "Of all the people who could have bumped into me, what were the chances that it would be the one woman that reminded me of Betty?" he thought to himself. She had seemed nice, but rather frightened. And why had she run off so abruptly like that? Was it something he said? "Idiot. Why do I always have to put my foot in my mouth?" 

He looked down at the grass between his feet, starting to wonder if he would ever be able to find a friend again. A wave of loneliness washed over him. He just needed somebody, anybody... 

All of a sudden, he heard explosions coming from the city. Springing to his feet, he saw a squadron of German bombers flying over the buildings, a couple of them still dropping their loads. "The war? Here?" As the bombers finished their run, Simon spotted another, much larger bomber trailing behind them. He suddenly noticed that his hand was in his pack, pulling out the crown. 

_Simon!_

No... Not again... 

_Now is the time. Put me on. I shall protect you._

Simon had felt urges to put on the crown before, but this was something else entirely. Before he even knew what was happening, he found himself raising it above his head. He tried to fight it, but it was no use. His hands set the crown upon his head. 

"Yes... Yes!" He started laughing maniacally as he rose up into the air, his skin turning bluer, his hair growing longer. "I call upon the power of ice and snow! Ice winds, blow! Protect your master!" Bright, blue light shot forth from his hands, transforming into ice and circling around him, encapsulating him just as a blinding flash came from the city, and a wave of force, so powerful that you could physically see it, radiated outward in every direction, enveloping the land in flames. 

* * *

_  
_

Simon opened his eyes to find himself lying on the ground, the crown a couple feet in front of him. He weakly pushed himself up onto his knees and looked at the clearing around him. The ground was scorched, and the trees had completely disappeared. The air was deathly silent, broken only by his breathing. With a feeling of apprehension, he stood up and turned to look at the city. 

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped, as he stared at the sight before him. He didn't feel horror. He didn't feel grief. He simply didn't feel. The city wasn't there anymore. Only a huge, smoldering crater remained. "What happened?" He remembered hearing the explosions, seeing the bombers flying overhead, and a blinding flash of light as the last plane dropped its load, but then... nothing. He could only guess that he had put on the crown and it protected him. But what kind of bomb could possibly create such devastation? It looked more like a meteor had hit than the aftermath of a war. 

Simon looked around, but in every direction, as far as he could see, the land lay in ruins, huge fires blazing off in the distance. It didn't just feel like everyone in Los Angeles had died; It felt like the whole world had died. Now, he was truly alone. 

Noticing that his bag was still clinging to his back, he pulled out his towel and wiped the makeup off of his face and arms, revealing the blue skin underneath. There was no more need to hide his appearance. Looking at his skin's true color, he thought, "Why? Why should I be the sole survivor? Why..." 

Simon's eyes filled with tears as the full impact of the situation finally hit him. "No, no... Just... No..." he cried, as he sunk back down onto his knees. "I can't... I can't do this anymore." He slammed his fist on the ground, letting out a cry of anguish that pierced the silence. As the sound dissipated in the surrounding emptiness, the spark in his eye disappeared, only to be replaced by a glint of light reflecting off the crown. 

He turned to look at it. Crawling over to it, he reached out and picked it up, his hand trembling. He stared intensely into the blood-red depths of the large, central gem. "Perhaps insanity isn't such a bad thing after all," he thought. The crown said nothing. It didn't need to. His hands still shaking, Simon lifted the crown and slowly set it down on his head. 

For a brief second, an image of Betty calling his name flashed through his mind, "Simon..." He blinked. "Simon?" he said. "Who's Simon?" He smiled widely as the ground beneath him began to freeze. "I'm the Ice King." 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so at first I thought that Simon met Marcy after the bomb fell, which is why I didn't include her, but about halfway through, I realized that she must have met Simon before it fell. In the farm world Finn universe, Simon had been crushed by the bomb that he froze in mid-air, but Marceline (who apparently never became a vampire in this universe O.O) still called him her friend, meaning they had met before the bomb fell.
> 
> Other notes, if you're interested: Sophia comes from the Greek word meaning wisdom and is the root of the term sophists, who were rhetoricians that viewed logic simply as a tool, devoid of any morality of its own. Not immoral, but amoral. Farrenkopf is a German family name meaning stubborn or reckless. The part about the Russians creating a three-stage hydrogen bomb is true (look up Tsar Bomba) and the fourth stage is theoretically possible. When I first wrote this, I originally had Bonnie log into Farrenkopf's Hotmail, but that didn't sound right, so I looked up the most popular e-mail service in Germany, GMX mail. And finally, the flight times from Germany to London and from London to L.A. are accurate. I sort of became a little obsessed with making it as real as possible :)


End file.
